


Sea of Stars

by adjovi



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-26
Updated: 2019-02-26
Packaged: 2019-11-06 02:40:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17931272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adjovi/pseuds/adjovi
Summary: Post-Monster (PM). Short little fluffy! piece of a reunion scene between Quentin and Eliot.





	Sea of Stars

**Author's Note:**

> By noon you raise a sea of stars  
> More golden than before.  
> \--The Dandelion, by Vachel Lindsay

After Eliot was finally _back_ and a real boy and squeezing Margo like she could disappear at any moment, his eyes met Quentin’s over her head. Soft and searching. Quentin shifted, not knowing what to think or do or even _move_ in that moment. But, he kept his gaze steady. Hoping, hoping. Maybe? Probably stupid. But, then, Eliot walked directly towards him, unwavering. Without a word, he kissed him. Right there. In front of _everyone_.

“Everybody out. Show’s over. Vamanos.” Margo’s voice vaguely registering over the rushing in his ears.

After a long moment, dazed and panting, Quentin finally pulled back. “Um.”

“So. I was living in this mind palace, right?” Eliot was saying this, all the while tenderly. Just. Looking. “I had this whole speech planned out, ok?” But Quentin was focused on touching, finally given permission; planting small, closed-mouth kisses along Eliot’s jaw. Eliot, laughing, placed his hands on Quentin’s shoulders. Gently though, not really pushing him away. “Would you just--wait. I wanna tell you.”

Quentin stepped back, smirking. “Ok, motherfucker.” He circled his arms around Eliot’s waist, thumbing the waistband of those stupid yoga pants or whatever the Monster had been wearing. “Tell me.”

Eliot ran a hand through Quentin’s hair, brushing down his jaw. “Ok. I was a dick. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Q.”

“Mmm.” He slid his arms under the back of Eliot’s t-shirt, fingers light against his skin.

“Yeah, I mean, Jesus--” He was staring down at Quentin with a naked look of wonder. “You really want to do this, huh? I mean--like--still?”

“What gave it away?” Quentin deadpanned, running a hand up Eliot’s side, making him shiver.

“Ok, Q. Ok. Just I--fuck it.” He ducked his head, pulling Quentin into another kiss, long and slow. Quentin could tell he was trying to pour all of his words into this. He wasn't about to let him off that easily.

Quentin pulled back, resting his chin on Eliot’s chest, gazing up at him. “So, mind palace, Sherlock?”

Eliot bit his lip. “Yeah--I love you?”

He snorted. “Is that a question?”

Eliot shook his head. “No. I just. Like I said. Big speech. But you _spoilered_ it.”

“Oh, this is on me, asshole?” He was laughing though, turning his cheek to rest on Eliot’s chest.

“But like with all of the other--with Alice--” Quentin’s eyes went wide, and he pushed back, clearly pissed--and he could tell Eliot knew. They'd honed the skill of reading each other for over half a century. Didn’t leave for a lot of wiggle room. For better or worse. But Eliot plowed ahead anyways; for some reason bizarrely forcing himself through a full display of self-doubt. “Julia--all the, fuck? _Women_ in the world? Why would you?” As he says this, in counterpoint, his thumb shushing strokes over his stubble. Quentin hadn’t shaved in a few days; he’d had a lot on his mind.

“Eliot. So, yeah. I’d never been with a guy before you. But what does that even matter? That doesn’t in any way change the fact that I fell in love with you. A man. That I spent a lifetime _with_ you. As my _partner_. I mean, even after meeting Arielle, I never stopped _being_ with you. I love you, El. I think, maybe, in some ways, I always did.” Eliot’s eyes were shining.

Eliot nodded, taking in a deep breath. “Yeah, I know. I mean, I figured _that_ out.” He ran his thumb over the shell of Quentin’s ear. “But--with Alice--. That was your sole _focus_ for awhile there, Q. I just--”

Quentin did step back from him then, scrubbing both hands over his face. “When I tell you that’s over, put a fork in it done?” He sighed; he could tell Eliot was struggling. “Ok, so look. She came to me at the _worst_ possible time. The Monster had just told me you were dead.” He licked his lips, his chest tightening painfully at the memory. “And, I was planning on capturing him, sending him to Blackspire _forever_ , El. And she shows up--trying to--and I’m thinking this is the last time I'm ever going to see your face.” He took in a shaky breath, giving Eliot a tight smile. “And, then, I saw _you_ , Eliot. Those couple of seconds just made me greedy for more. Alice wanted to stay, and I couldn’t get rid of her fast enough. Probably need to apologize for that. At some point.”

Eliot swallowed thickly, staring at him with wide eyes for a few beats. “Oh.”

“Yeah, so. Bare with me, here.” He reached over, taking Eliot’s hand, and pulled him down to sit on the love seat. His heart was hammering in his chest, and Eliot was watching him like he was something so fucking precious. “I had this girlfriend when I was fifteen. My first girlfriend, actually. We only lasted--God--less than a month. But, Valentine’s day happened to fall within those weeks.”

“Q, I’m not sure--.” Eliot reached over, tucking his hair behind his ear. Well, trying to, anyways. He laid a warm hand against Quentin’s neck.

“I know, just--gimme a sec.” He turned his face so he could quickly kiss Eliot’s palm. “I felt pressure; knew I had to get her something. So, I bought her one of those drug-store heart boxes.” He approximated a heart with his hands. “You know, the ones with the shitty filled chocolates that you poke to find the caramels.”

Eliot was nosing his neck. “Hmm. Like grandma would give you.”

“Ah--” Eliot was really trying hard to distract him; he was trying to pretend it wasn’t working. Quid pro quo, and all that. “Um. Yeah. _She_ gave me this book. Joseph Campbell. Like the _perfect_ fucking gift.” At the look Eliot gave him, indulgent and yet fond, Quentin rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I know books aren’t really your thing, but--”

“Yes, sweetheart. I know about your deep-seated book fetish.” Eliot petted him on the head and Quentin shot him an annoyed glare. Eliot, undeterred, slipped his hand to curl around his neck again, thumbing the collar of his t-shirt.

“I felt like a colossal douche, of course. She had given me this super thoughtful gift. And, I had given her like the worst possible thing--basically, here--zero-shits-given, clearly, last minute piece of crap.” Quentin sighed, reaching up to pull Eliot’s hand into his lap, worrying Eliot’s thumb between his fingers. “So, my dad asks what she got me; he drove me to CVS the night before. So, I tell him. And he _knows_ I feel like shit about it. After a moment, he says, ‘Curly-Q, if Julia had given you one single dandelion, you would have treasured that forever.’” Quentin shrugged. “And, he was right.”

He looked over at Eliot, fire creeping up his cheeks. Eliot just stared at him, working things out. “So, wait. Am I the dandelion in this scenario?”

Quentin smiled shyly. “Yeah. Kinda.”

Eliot smiled that big smile, that whole-faced grin he got when he was deliriously happy. Quentin was amazed and more than a little heady that _he_ held that kind of power. “I can live with that.”

“You _do_ know dandelions are weeds, right?” Quentin teased.

Eliot pulled their joined hands up, kissing Quentin’s knuckles. “Way to build me up--buttercup.”

Quentin laughed, unbidden. “Ok. I think we can drop the flower metaphors now.”

“Anything you say, tulip.” Eliot leaned forward, pulling him into a kiss. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading--kudos and comments are love.


End file.
